A poem in a bar

Drinking rum alone in a bar
is like writing a poem
on a paper napkin.
It's pointless.
But every once in a while,
you see someone smile,
someone laugh, or look at you,
and you raise your glass
for every word you write.
Time slips
through the fingers of mind,
people enter and leave,
till they are there no more.
And you can't tell,
if its happy hours,
or climate change,
or forgotten words,
or listless songs,
just lights begin to blur,
when you know its, its time to go.